


i do adore

by goinghost



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (tagging for the whole fic btw there are three chapters), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, First Dates, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Love Languages, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinghost/pseuds/goinghost
Summary: Everyone shows their love in different ways.--An exploration of three of the relationships on the Carte Blanche through three different love languages. Written for the TPP Valentine's Exchange.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 50
Collections: TPP Valentine's Exchange





	1. acts of service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrAudioDrama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrAudioDrama/gifts).



> happy valentines day, sav! when i read all your prompts i was so delighted to figure out how to combine as many as i could and i came out with this! hope you like it, because it was an absolute joy to write
> 
> there are three chapters so be sure to click through and read them all! 
> 
> title from 'i do adore' by mindy gledhill
> 
> cw for very briefly implied sexual content (but nothing happens)

“Nureyev?” 

Juno sounded, as always, like a song Nureyev would play on his instrument, sonorous and flowing over him in the quiet of his bedroom. He would never get tired of hearing that voice.

“Yes, dear?” 

“I have an idea for what we should do today,” he said, voice low and enticing. 

Nureyev adjusted himself against his partner and pressed a searing kiss to the side of his neck. He couldn’t keep a frankly ridiculous smirk off of his face. “Mmm, oh?” 

“Yeah.” Suddenly, Juno flipped Nureyev under him and pinned his wrists to the comforter. He grinned rakishly and declared, “We’re cleaning your fucking room.” 

“We—beg pardon?”

Juno rolled off the side of the bed with a laugh and promptly fell directly into a pile of dirty clothes that Nureyev had been meaning to add to his bigger, more centralized pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. Juno let out a small noise of displeasure and stood up, pulling a wrinkled button-up off of his head. “See this?” He said, holding the shirt out at Nureyev, “This is why.” 

“I understand that my room might not be the most organized, however, you’ll find that—”

“And don’t give me that ‘everything is in its place within the mess’ BS,” Juno wagged a finger at him, “I know you spent 20 minutes yesterday looking for that scarf you wanted to wear to the café we went to. That’s not organized chaos, that’s just chaos.” 

Nureyev got up from the bed as well, mindful of the towering stack of books balanced precariously on the floor next to his bedframe. “If it’s not exactly how I want it, then why, pray tell, have I allowed it to persist for this long?” he huffed, “Don’t you think I would have cleaned it by now?” 

For the first time in this conversation, Juno faltered, “I—uh, yeah, I did think about that. But you get so clammed up every time someone mentions coming in here, like you’re ashamed of it. And I know you’ve been stressed about...something. I don’t really know what, and you don’t have to tell me yet or anything, but I just—” Juno eyed him earnestly, “I’m worried about you, Nureyev. And when Rita was worried about me back on Mars, she’d always help me clean my shit. Well—” he paused, “she’d shower me in streams and shove some ice cream down my throat and  _ then _ she’d help me clean.” 

Nureyev blanched. He hadn’t realized how obvious he’d been with his...distress. He knew that Juno was aware of his debts, but the extent to which they affected him was something he’d been trying very hard to conceal. Apparently not hard enough. That, or Juno now knew him well enough to not only see through the thin veneer of Peter Ransom, but the thicker shell of Peter Nureyev as well. He wasn’t sure which explanation he preferred. 

“Juno…” He started, unsure of where he was going.

“Look, Nureyev, if you look me in the eye right now and tell me that you don’t want me to help clean your room then I won’t, and we can forget about this conversation and go back to—y’know. But if there’s a part of you—even a small part—that thinks he would feel better if he could see the floor, then I’ve got nothing to do today, and I’m all yours.” 

Nureyev considered it, turning the idea over in his mind. Juno helping him clean...actually  _ cleaning... _ Peter Nureyev was a naturally messy person, if only because he’d never been in a situation where he’d needed to clean. Growing up, he'd barely had more possessions than the clothes on his back, and so there was no way to leave a mess. Once he’d left his home planet behind, he’d remained all but a ghost, drifting in and out of hotel rooms and hovels alike carrying nothing but a duffel bag with outfits and fake IDs for all occasions. Yes, he’d picked up a bit of a hoarding habit in the years following, if only because Nureyev was like a magpie in the sense that if he saw something shiny he immediately wanted it to be his, but the things he collected were always trinkets he could fit in the palm of his hand. 

Being on the Carte Blanche, having a space for himself for nearly seven months, was a strange experience. He was discovering that he wasn’t very adept at keeping the filing cabinets in his mind  _ or  _ the literal filing cabinets installed in the room organized. He’d never been able to make a mess before, and perhaps that was becoming less of a novelty the longer he spent in a pile of his own garbage, but it was a novelty nonetheless. 

And, of course, as his debt-imposed deadline drew closer and the Aurinkos’ ultimate goal drew nearer by the day, any energy he might have previously had to clean up the mess of his spilled mind or possessions was steadily disappearing. Juno was correct: he was stressed. And that stress made it harder and harder to contemplate spending his time rearranging the items on his floor when he could be studying schematics or attempting to compartmentalize his inevitable betrayal. 

But here Juno was, offering to use his own time to spend the day deep cleaning Nureyev’s room. Nureyev had never deep-cleaned anything in his life, apart from crime scenes. There were so many things he wanted to do with Juno that he’d never had the opportunity to try, living as he had been. There were so many ways the detective surprised him every day. Why could this not be one of them? Juno was correct in that the state of his quarters made him feel ashamed. Would it be such a lapse to allow Juno to help with that as he had helped with so many other things in Nureyev’s life? 

“Juno,” he said again, more confident despite the slight waver he was attempting to clear from his voice, “I think it would be...beneficial. For you to assist in cleaning my room.”

His love smiled widely. With a fond expression on his face, Juno rolled his eyes and said, “Of course I’ll ‘assist in cleaning your room’, Nureyev.” 

Oh, to hear his name said like that in Juno’s voice. The use of Nureyev’s last name flowed with the same cadence as the  _ dear _ ’s and  _ love _ ’s that dripped from Nureyev’s tongue and he relished in the way it spoke so clearly of Juno’s affection for him. His heart felt full to bursting with his love for this man. 

“Juno Steel,” he said, smiling with all the sap he could muster, “what did I ever do to deserve a lady like you?” 

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t your laundry.” Juno chuckled as he sorted through a mound of wrinkled shirts, pants, and underwear. 

Nureyev made his way over to him and grabbed a few articles of clothing from his hands. “Allow me, dear detective. Could you start by putting those books over there on the shelf?”

Juno laughed as he navigated around to the other side of Nureyev’s bed and started sorting through the huge stack of memoirs, romance novels, and textbooks on criminology that Nureyev had managed to collect in his time aboard the Carte Blanche. “Oh, so now he knows how to organize.”

“Hush, you.” 

Juno didn’t respond, just continued transferring the books over to the shelf built into the wall, but if Nureyev looked half as smitten as Juno appeared to be, then they were lucky that Vespa wasn’t present to mime  nausea at their mutual adoration. 

They spent the next several hours picking Nureyev’s room apart piecemeal and putting it back together in semi-functional order. There were some areas that Nureyev refused to let Juno tackle (his desk for one, his closet for another), but eventually they managed to get his room to the point where the entire floor was visible and and blessedly free of the many, many precarious piles of things that had made the small space feel even smaller

As they tied up the last of the trash bags which they planned to toss out the airlock at the next opportunity, Nureyev had to admit that he felt...well, better. His mind was still crowded with all of the anxious neuroses that always plagued him, but they had less weight. He felt lighter than he had in months as the mess had steadily grown to unmanageable levels. It seemed his dear detective had truly been onto something. 

They lay together, Nureyev and Juno, on Nureyev’s recently-cleaned sheets, with Nureyev tucked into Juno’s arms as he carded his hands through Nureyev’s hair. It was nice, peaceful. A snapshot of a moment like so many moments they’ve had but losing none of the novelty of the first time he realized he could be held by Juno Steel, that he was allowed this comfort now. It warmed him inside and out. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He mumbled again sleepily, turning to press a kiss to Juno’s collarbone. 

Juno sighed into his affection and Nureyev looked at the face of the goddess before him to see a smile playing on his lips. “You know, I always ask myself that same question. We can find out together.” 


	2. words of affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buddy and Vespa's first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for mention of a minor allergic reaction and mention of a fire

Vespa Ilkay was tired, wet, hungry, and there was still bird shit on her favorite jacket. Suffice it to say, her date was not going well. 

She and Buddy had been dancing around each other for two weeks before Vespa had gotten the courage to ask her out for real. After that night at the bar where they’d both whispered some less than platonic things to each other  _ and  _ gotten into a—she’d call it  _ charged— _ knife fight for Vespa’s stolen loot, neither of them seemed to know where they stood, relationship-wise. 

Vespa wanted them to be partners in more than just crime, and she’d thought Buddy did too (or, at least, had  _ hoped  _ she did), but she hadn’t been sure until they’d been hiding out in an alleyway waiting for the sirens chasing them to head the other way and something in the moment...changed. They were pressed up against each other and they both smelled like sweat and the sewer system they’d used to infiltrate a bank, but looking into Buddy’s eyes in the dark made Vespa feel like she could see the whole galaxy in her gaze. And then Buddy had kissed her and Vespa felt like there were supernovas with less heat than Buddy Aurinko’s lips. 

So the next day, before either of them had had the chance to feel weird about it, Vespa had asked Buddy if she wanted to go on a date—a  _ real  _ date, not one where they were secretly also robbing the place, not one where one of them was secretly also robbing the other—basically no robbery involved at all. And Buddy had said yes, laughing her charming laugh and pulling out a sheet of paper that listed all the ways she’d been thinking of asking Vespa the same question. 

So Vespa had thought,  _ okay, a date with Buddy Aurinko. Gotta be perfect,  _ and she’d meticulously planned their next Friday like she’d only seen Buddy herself do before. They would take a nice walk in Buddy’s favorite park on Venus, travel a few more blocks to get to a cafe that Buddy always ordered pastries from when they were planetside, and then they’d see a stream based on the criminal career of Ophelia Starr, someone Vespa knew Buddy looked up to (or, at least, knew Buddy wanted to be more famous than one day). 

It was all going to be perfect and show Buddy just how much Vespa wanted to make her happy even when they weren’t running for their lives together. She had wanted her normally verbose partner-in-crime to be speechless with joy by the end of the night. 

Well, Buddy was speechless alright. 

The date hadn’t started out too badly. They’d gone for their walk in the park and it’d been pleasant enough, until a Venusian swallow (which was the size of a standard-issue microwave) decided to take a shit all over the nice leather jacket Vespa had worn to impress Buddy. It sucked, and she wasn’t looking forward to having to stay planetside for however long it took to get the thing dry cleaned, but at least it only sucked for Vespa. Buddy had actually seemed a little amused (and, of course, sympathetic to the new stain). 

Things had  _ really _ taken a turn when they made it to the café and Vespa ordered something for Buddy that she’d thought she’d like, and she was right, until Buddy had started having an allergic reaction to the almond butter they’d used to make it. Luckily, it hadn’t been enough to warrant the epinephrine autoinjector Vespa kept in the medical kit that traveled with her, but she could tell that Buddy wasn’t a fan of the huge red splotches dotting her face or the way her tongue and lips were swollen. 

After that incident, they’d left the restaurant for the movie theater and Vespa had begged the universe to just let her first date go well. It had seemed to work until they were ten minutes into the movie and the fire alarm had started blaring. That almost would’ve been okay if not for the way the sprinkler system had kicked on a few seconds after that. 

As they were evacuated out of the theater without even the promise of a refund, Vespa couldn’t help but feel like a drowned cat, her stringy green mullet plastered to her face and neck. Buddy, at least, looked as gorgeous as ever, even soaked. She smiled at Vespa with all of her usual poise, but it didn’t take a genius to see it was an act. 

Vespa sighed and took Buddy’s hands in hers while they were backlit by the burning movie theater. “I’m so sorry. God, Bud, I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.”

“There’s no need to apologize, darling—”

“But there is! I just wanted to show you how much I really cared about making this thing work, even outside of all the tension of a heist or whatever.” Vespa shook their palms together to emphasize her point, “I wanted you to see that we could do normal stuff together too! Like any couple who aren’t also criminals.” She looked down at her feet, “Guess I just blew it, huh.” 

Buddy’s soft fingers came to rest on her chin, and Vespa felt her head be lifted up until her eyes were forced to meet her date’s. Buddy’s expression was...not what Vespa had expected. She didn’t look angry or even all that upset. Instead, she just looked...happy. Her perfect lips were spread in a smile and the corners of her eyes were crinkled by her beautiful pudgy cheeks. She held Vespa’s gaze silently for a few moments as sirens and hoses blared in the background. 

“Dear,” Buddy said, the word dripping with affection that Vespa didn’t think she really deserved at the moment, “I don’t care that your jacket will need cleaning, or that I required minor medical attention, or even that Ophelia Starr’s legacy has quite literally gone up in flames. The only thing I’m concerned with is that I got to spend the day with you—and what a day it was. During the moments when we weren’t lamenting the tortures of the universe, I quite enjoyed your company,” she winked jauntily, “You make a wonderful partner, in conversation, crime, or anywhere else.” 

“But—I don’t—”

Buddy leaned in very close so that her lips almost brushed Vespa’s ear, “Darling, the day I’ve spent with you has been the most fun I’ve had since the last day I was able to spend with you. I’m happier than I’ve ever been thanks to your companionship, and I’d so love it if we could keep this little arrangement going.” 

Vespa gulped, her face heated and cheeks no doubt as red as the firetrucks surrounding them. She wasn’t sure what to say and so she stayed silent as Buddy moved her face so that she was once again looking Vespa in the eye, but their lips were separated by barely a breath. 

“Would you like that as well?” 

Vespa nodded. 

“May I kiss you?”

Vespa barely had time to finish nodding again before those shining-star lips were on hers. She’d traveled the galaxy in her days as an intragalactic criminal, but kissing Buddy Aurinko made her feel just like she was seeing Ranga’s green exterior from a spaceship window again, the first time she was finally able to leave that damned planet behind. Her heart filled like a swamp-gas bubble about to pop, emotion and heat and something that very easily could become love drifting to the surface ready to burst open. 

When they finally parted to take a breath, Buddy was staring at Vespa with starlit eyes. She was the most beautiful thing Vespa had ever seen. 

“That was…” Vespa trailed off. 

Buddy chuckled lightly, “Agreed completely, darling.” She batted those pretty eyelashes at her like she was the only one in the world who Buddy could even imagine looking at. “Would you like to do it again?”

And so they did. 


	3. quality time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita and Juno have a Ladies' Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no cws that i can think of for this one! enjoy!

“Oh, Mistah Steeeeeeeel!” Rita’s voice echoed across the common room of the Carte Blanche. Juno watched as she bounded over to him holding a sparkly pink basket full to the brim with nail polish in one hand and a novelty heart-shaped makeup bag in the other. “You know what time it is!” 

“Hey, Rita,” Juno smiled, “I don’t think I do.” 

Rita rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do, Mistah Steel, because you promised we’d have a nice lil ladies’ night tonight and then you  _ pinky  _ promised you wouldn’t forget and then I made you double pinky promise you’d tell Mistah Ransom  _ before  _ I would’a been forced to go interruptin’ you while you did what you do at night or sometimes even not at night—oh, don’t give me that look, Mistah Steel—and I don’t see Mistah Ransom nowhere so that means that you already told him so that means you kept all your promises in that order!” Rita took a breath, “which means you  _ do  _ know what time it is and you’re just messin’ with your old pal Rita, but you can’t fool me again! You know what they say, fifth time’s the charm!” 

A few years ago—hell, maybe a couple of months ago—Juno would’ve tried to stop the smile on his face from widening until it was unmistakably fond, but as things stood, he just let his grin take over and pushed himself up from his sprawled position on the couch, shrugging his shoulders. “You got me, Rita. What’s on the agenda tonight?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked, boss!” She reached over and grabbed him by the arm, leading him down the hall to the crew quarters. The basket and makeup bag were balanced precariously in her left hand as she led Juno with her right. “See, last time we were planetside I made sure to stock up on colors, and Mistah Ransom gave me a recommendation for this super fancy face cream that’s supposed to make your skin smooth as the underside of a dome, but like, the fancy domes that ain’t cheap enough to get torn to raggedy pieces by sandstorms like the one over Oldtown—” she paused, “Uh—Newtown, I guess—but anyway! I got the cream and some real pretty eyeshadow palettes that I think would look real good against all your cool undertones—because let’s face it Mistah Steel, we both know you’re a winter—and you know, all the other stuff we normally do!” 

By the time she’d finished talking, they’d arrived outside Rita’s room. She’d decorated her door with paper stars and planets and a little sign that said. “RITA’S ROOM: THE PLACE WHERE RITA CALLS HOME”, which only made Juno a  _ little  _ uncomfortable. He guessed that was that progress that everyone was always talking about. 

Rita opened the door with a mechanical  _ whoosh  _ while Juno considered the whirlwind of information she’d dropped on him. Tonight was gonna be a good night, he decided. 

They spent a few minutes piling every blanket and pillow in Rita’s room (he wasn’t even sure where she was  _ getting  _ all these) onto her bed in an approximation of a fort. Rita set up a monitor on her bright yellow inflatable rolling chair and pushed it so that it aligned perfectly with the entrance to their blanket cave. She pressed a few buttons on her comms, humming at him, “So, Mistah Steel, what’ll it be? Skeletons? Pirates? Skeleton pirates from Jupiter that roam the gaseous seas in search of their next victims, but really they’re all lonely and eventually just start kissing each other except they ain’t got lips so it’s a whole lotta unpleasant bone clackity clacks and I really don’t understand why they couldn’t just give ‘em lips, Mistah Steel, I mean it wouldn’t have been too weird, right?” She blinked, “Oh, I forgot what I was sayin’ before.”

“Let’s do pirates, I don’t really wanna hear any bone noises tonight.” 

“You got it, boss!” 

Rita turned on some stream that Juno didn’t catch the name of. The name didn’t matter really, just the fact that he was watching it with her. She laid all the different colors of nail polish across the comforter and they each picked a few to try. As the movie played in the background, Rita coated Juno’s nails in a layer of soft yellow with turquoise polka dots. Hey, sue him, he was feeling adventurous.

They chatted through the sounds of sea battles and mermaid kisses, Rita giggling at the steamy bits and Juno covering his eyes every time a drop of blood was even hinted at. Eventually the stream ended and they put on another, this time after applying Nureyev’s face cream as they let their nails dry. 

It  _ was  _ a good night, just like Juno had told himself. So good that he didn’t even feel all that scared when Rita grew uncharacteristically silent and stared into the middle distance for a little too long. 

“Rita?” 

She blinked at him, barely hearing at first. “Huh? Oh—yeah, boss?” 

“What are you—uh, thinking about?” 

“It’s nothing,” she said, even though it was definitely something, “It’s just...you’re really happy here, huh, Mistah Steel.” 

Juno felt the words like a gut punch. He knew they were true and the thought didn’t worry him like it would’ve a few months ago. Instead he felt...hopeful. “Yeah, Rita. I really am.” 

“That’s great! ‘Cuz, I’m really happy here too, is all, and I was just thinkin’ about how it’s been so long since we were both really happy with what we were doin’, but here in Captain A’s family we got more than just each other, you got Mistah Ransom and I’ve got Mistah Jet and I  _ know  _ Miss Vespa cares about us too even if she’s got a funny way of showin’ it, and of course Captain A lets us know she likes us all the time and I just—” Juno watched as Rita’s eyes filled with tears. They weren’t her usual dramatic waterworks. Instead, they flowed down her cheeks silently while she kept talking, “I’m just so glad you convinced me to take this job, ya know?” 

Juno smiled. He reached his hand out to rest on hers, mindful of their still-drying nails. “Yeah, Rita, I think I do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and happy valentine's day! 
> 
> find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/GHOSTZVNE) and be sure to check out everyone else's works for the valentine's exchange on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tppexchange) as well! this event was full of talented people (including sav!) and they've made some incredible fic and art!


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